Dead Roses
by MooMoogle
Summary: Luna is betrothed to Peter...and yet, she can't find the means to love him. [EdmundOC giftficcu for Kitty17794]
1. Secret

_I'm alive! ...And have been working on this fic behind your backs. Hee. Sorry. Well, anyways, since Boo and Kat won't let me burn this like I wanted to, I decided to put it up and get it out of my document manager. I swear, I'm the only one who's even DREAMT of an Ed/Luna story. oo; I think this is the only one to ever live. _

_Anyways, this is a story about Edmund and Luna. Luna, for those of you who don't know, is a faerie -- the Daughter of Aslan. It helps to read her story, which was NOT written by me, but by Kitty17794. And while I'm on that subject, I have no rights to her, nor Edmund. Luna is owned by Kitty; Edmund is owned by C.S. Lewis._

_Yay. Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you can finally read. Please, no flaming. _

-------

There was a festive mood filling the Cair.

Everyone was smiling. Everyone was wishing them well. They were congratulating her, congratulating Peter. It was a flurry. And for once, the preparations everyone was bustling to have done were not mesmerizing Luna as she had imagined them to.

After all, she had betrothed herself to the High King. Wasn't that a celebration in itself? It should have been.

And yet...

She didn't think she was ever alone in feeling outside the festivities. No...no, she knew all along she wasn't. Edmund never seemed truly happy. In fact, he seemed unsettled. Troubled. Luna knew love had never been his game, and it confused him in ways she also found dumbfounding...and yet, here she was. Fated to be bride of Peter Pevensie. How odd love truly is.

She actually didn't think she realized what she had done until the night after he proposed. It was so offsetting...and so unexpected...the only thing she could manage in her stupor was a stuttered 'yes'. But looking back, it seemed as though there was little else she could have said. After all, he was the High King. Saying no to him...was almost inconsiderate from her position. It was just as it should have been.

They...were getting married.

Luna could never get it out of her mind as to how odd the notion sounded. She had always loved Peter. In fact, she had always loved all of the Pevensies; only she had always pictured her love for them to be as the love they held for each other. They were as much as her siblings as they were her responsibility. Yet...Peter and herself were becoming more, it seemed.

Susan and Lucy found the news joyous, and immediately took to the idea. They would talk to her for hours, and they would giggle and laugh as all girls do, talking and setting preparations for the wedding. Susan's mind, Luna soon found, was full of creative and wondrous things, and Lucy's just as well. Yet...even though it was about Luna herself...She soon grew bored of it. Bored of her own wedding!

Perhaps it was because she felt unready. This was so new to her, and she had no idea how to react. She had never been much of a true girl, like some would imagine a girl to be, and took to love with unsure steps. Peter used to be what she considered her closest friend...and yet now, when she is around him she feels uncomfortable. She never used to.

Luna just hoped she would grow used to it soon.

--

"Oh, Luna, aren't you quite excited!?"

The fae had to force a small smile, glancing in Lucy's direction. "I assure you, Lucy, I am."

This time it was Susan's turn to swoon. "There shall be a ball for you; a feast!" Her eyes glittered. "Whom shall we invite? All of Narnia, of course -- the whole country will celebrate for their King's marriage -- but what about Archenland? Shall the Royal Court be invited as well?"

Luna had to shake her head, holding it within her hands as she reclined back in the chair she sat upon. "Whatever you think, Susan," she replied wearily. This was so stressful, talking over such unimportant matter-- Wait. No! This was supposed to be terribly important! This was her marriage with the handsome King of Narnia. Yes, he _was_. She would believe it...she would she would she would--

She glanced up, somewhat sighing. Oh this was so confusing. Too confusing. Oh so--

She looked up a bit more, someone else catching her attention. Someone walking beyond the pillars of the Courtyard.

It was Edmund.

A fluttering sensation only seemed to bring her nausea as their eyes locked. Something was dreadfully wrong. There was a sadness in his eyes. He needed to speak with--

"Luna?" Her attention was withdrawn from the young King, glancing back at Lucy.

"I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that, Lu."

"I asked if you wanted lilies or roses--"

"Er, actually, can we talk later?" She stood, suddenly uncomfortable and in desire to leave. "I-I need to go."

"But the wedding is tomorrow!" cried Lucy. "We need to know what flowers--"

Luna shook her head. "Why don't you surprise me?"

Before the Queen could reply, Luna left the Courtyard, searching for the King. Nothing. Looking up and down the hall, she searched for any trace, any whisper, walking down a little ways. "Edmund!" she cried softly, waiting, listening for a reply.

Her call went unanswered.

He was gone.

--

Luna found herself wandering the Western Courtyard that night.

As a Daughter of the Moon, she found her origins comforting when she felt empty, for she did. The small wafts of moonlight brought her happiness, even as it waned. She knew she should be resting. She knew she should be prepared for what tomorrow would bring.

The very words came to her. They were from a different being, a different tone, and yet when they reached her, she could not be startled, no matter how sudden they came. She turned, looking up at Edmund. There was still that air of sadness that distracted her so.

They sat on a corner bench. He looked at her. She looked at him.

She asked him what was wrong.

He remained silent, looking away. She prodded him gently.

"I'm no fool, Ed," she whispered.

He moaned softly. "It's not right...it's too late..." He turned away. He was trembling. Quietly, she stroked his hair, waiting, watching, gently coaxing the truth from him.

It was when he finally put his lips to hers, did she realize.

Her emptiness was gone. This was the ecstasy. This was the fullness.

Her love had been mispaired; now, it was soothed.

He held her close when he kissed her, full and sweet, fondling her hair, pulling her closer, resting his hands on her hips. And yet his hands never seemed to stop moving. An electric sort of shock seemed to run through her, leaving her shaken, almost senseless. She felt dizzy, falling against him, ruffling his hair, exploring his back--

She pulled away slightly, gasping for air. No. No no no. No no no no no. "Edmund, w-we can't. If P-Peter--"

His face contorted. "Who cares about Peter?!" he cried. His voice was harsh, strangled. The tears streamed. "Peter's not here!"

He pulled her to him again, meeting her lips, moaning softly, holding her so close, so close, and never letting go. She cried gently, letting him kiss her, letting him embrace her, because the fact of the matter was, she did not care about Peter. It was so horrid, so dreadful, as the truth can be. But it was the truth, and so she let him be, crying and kissing so softly, so sweetly, it only made her cry all the more.

This could not be. Tomorrow, the boundaries would be set. It would end as quietly as it had begun.

"I love you, Lady Luna Braveheart," he whispered in her ear. "I will always regret not telling you earlier." And she cried once more at his words, feeling so very lost, so confused over why she had blindly bound herself to Peter. She rested her forehead upon his shoulder, her long platinum falling over her shoulders and providing a curtain from the outside world. It was just them in that small, quiet moment. Just Luna and Edmund. Edmund and Luna.

"I have to go." His words shattered her reverie. She looked up in despair. He swallowed thickly. "You...were right. I...can't do this. I can't be seen with you." He choked softly. "After all...you're marrying my brother."

"Don't go." Please, don't go.

He shook his head. "I can't do this to Peter. It must end."

She fought back down a sob, letting it die in her throat as he allowed one more bliss, brushing her lips gently. "I have to go." She nodded. She knew. She understood.

He was sad once more. Her heart was breaking. She could feel it, tearing itself to pieces, relentless. His hands slipped from hers as he turned from her, pausing only once, before leaving her well alone within the Courtyard.

Luna softly let loose a shuddering sigh. She looked down, her gaze falling to a bed of roses. They were so elegant, withdrawn, timid to bloom fully even though they were past due.

Except one.

One was blackened, dry, it's bud in mid-bloom. She bent down and plucked it. A loose petal broke away, swirling and diving as it fell, before landing quietly upon the ground.

It was dead. Dead.

She fondled it, plucking away dry leaves, turning it over in her hands, watching as a thick brier prodded her fingertip, drawing a thick pearl of dark blood. Such a trecherous beauty. So harmful, but the elegance of the flower helped to sooth the pain. She held the rose close to her chest, breathing softly.

She wanted roses at her wedding.


	2. Final Goodbye

Stepping tentively, delicately with her bare feet, down the aisle, Luna felt her cheeks warmthen. She had to follow the rose petals strewn down the marbled flooring of the castle to keep a set path, almost trying to step on the flowerlets just for the sheer feeling of it. She held the flowers close to her chest, loving the scent, loving the company of them, loving the roses so much. They were a deep, dark red, vibrant and foreboding all the same. They reminded her.

She tried to keep her eyes from glancing at the crowd, but she found her gaze soon flying, meeting a pair of eyes only to move on to another...and another. A small smile had managed to curve her lips, and now it stretched slightly wider. Oh, it was lovely, the whole thing was.

And Peter seemed to be the heart of it all. He really was handsome, smiling at her, eyes sparkling, a splendor all in all. It was him who made her smile truly -- her future could not be bad. It couldn't, not with the High King.

Susan and Lucy stood slightly behind him. Susan radiated such beauty and grace, smiling all the while, standing with poise and caution. Her gaze met Luna's, and the Queen gave her a small laugh, glowing.

Lucy's attention was taken. She was looking away, looking up at whom she was whispering to. Her features tried valiantly to remain joyous, but the noticeable strain in her half hearted smile and the agitation in her eyes gave her away.

She was talking to Edmund.

Oh.

He was neither smiling nor exhaling the joy everyone else seemed to. He was looking down, muttering softly to Lucy. Whatever he had said silenced her, and she sighed, returning her attention to Luna. When the young Queen noticed the fae had been watching them, she flashed a warm smile. 'Nothing's wrong,' the Queen was assuring. Oh, Luna wished she could believe it.

Dark eyes rose to meet hers when she looked up at him once more; she choked softly and averted her gaze to the ground. She preferred to watch her feet, steadily leading her onwards on this journey, one tentative step at a time.

When she had once more gathered her courage, she hesitantly raised her gaze. She was where she was supposed to be, standing before Peter. She managed a small smile. He laughed silently. He was blushing.

It took all of her wits to keep her smile aglow and her eyes calm when _his_ voice split the silence. Oh. No. Aslan, dear Aslan, _no. _Spare him, spare _her_. He was - surely not, please not - to wed them.

Every word Edmund spoke, she had to try so hard not to wince, try so hard to keep her composure. His words were incoherent to her. She couldn't comprehend anything he spoke. She could only recognize his voice, his tone, the natural graveness to his words.

Edmund said things. Peter said things. She said things. She was given a ring. Everyone said some more things.

And then, finally, there was silence.

Until a rush hit her. Peter swept her up, and in his loving embrace, kissed her full and deep.

She couldn't help thinking that it reminded her very well of how Edmund had kissed her.

There was a roar from the crowds surveying, an audible cry from Susan, such an applause that she was senseless until he released her. He was laughing, crying, and Luna found herself crying, too. She didn't want him to let go. Throwing her arms back around his neck, she embraced him, and he did likewise for her.

She mustered her gaze up to her husband's brother.

Edmund's head was bowed.

---

"Would you care to dance?"

Luna blinked at Peter, snapped out of her reverie by his words. "Hm?"

He chuckled. "I said, would you care to dance?"

"Oh." It seemed she couldn't seem to focus on any one thing in particular, and his words seemed fuzzy to her despite the repetition he provided. Everyone seemed to have to repeat themselves when they addressed her, and, poor fellows, there were so many of them. She blinked once more, lowering her teal eyes for the briefest moment. "Er...I--"

"Only if you want to, that is," he added hurriedly, subconsciously swiping a lock of his sanded hair from his face as he shifted rather uneasily. So, even he was uneasy about all of...this. Well. Huzzah--she wasn't alone.

"No, no, it's fine--I mean, I'd love to dance." Her words and wit had come to an end, and she was willing to do anything to get away from the awkward moments. Besides, they had danced before...At the coronation ball. Five years ago. When they had merely been friends. This couldn't be much different. Besides that little fact that they were now married.

He led her out, clasping her hands in his. He was eager, and yet, he didn't want to be eager unless she wanted it of him. He was watching her very closely, and continued to watch her even as they danced.

Luna risked a true smile. His beamed brilliantly, and she laughed. Luna danced. She danced for him, twirled under his watch, her steps careful and graced, in time to each and every note. He matched her, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers. She couldn't help but notice that his poise seemed slightly improved. Goodness, suppose he had practiced for the occasion.

When he leaned forward and kissed her once more, her thoughts wandered wild.

He had every right to look forward to this day. He had married the person he loved.

...She also found herself noticing that he _did_ indeed kiss very much like Edmund.

---

Luna was standing quietly out on the balcony, sparing herself from the celebrations for the mere moment. Peter was out dancing with Lucy, or perhaps Susan. She wasn't even sure.

She was busy watching the sea, watching the fading streaks of sunlight catch the rippling waves brilliantly, moving on to create the lengthening shadows of sundown. The ocean seemed restless today, halfway moving up the beach, before a small wave crashed across the beach, lapping at the shore angrily. It was a magnificent sight, the sea was, but it was also terrifying.

Aslan had come across the sea. Her father had somehow journeyed over the water from his father's land and rid his own country of Jadis and her wintry spell. A tiny, nagging thought ran through her mind.

What did her father think of her now?

She knew he knew her sin. _His_ sin. Their sin. She just knew that Aslan knew. Was he angry?

She watched as a tremendous wave gathered itself, towering over its lesser self, rushing to the land as to destroy it. It crashed down, rushing up the sandy beach until it could strain no farther, and reluctantly allowed itself to run back down to the water.

Something else was heard above the distant sound of the beach, above the blurred noise of the party. Footsteps, soft and reluctant as the waves were to return to the sea. She focused on them. They were different. They did not consist of the carefree spirit everyone else seemed to have, nor the contained anger of the sea.

She regretted it.

He stood silently beside her, eyes downcast, not moving despite the tangle of dark hair whipping at his face in the slight breeze. He refused to look in her direction. She wished she could refuse looking in his.

They both knew that this was wrong; that what they had done was wrong. Ignoring it, however, proved to be an issue.

Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Hesitantly, Edmund looked up. She had to bite her lip when she met his gaze, saw _those brown eyes_, but her gaze did not falter. Softly, she spoke up.

"Dance?"

---

No one gave the two half a glance as they stepped out together, hand in hand. After all, they were good friends, and known for it -- no one would suspect what had happened between them.

She turned to face him. He was watching her, very much like Peter had, except he was more...afraid, rather than eager. The slight tremors vibrated from him as he timidly placed a hand on her waist, still holding her hand with his free one. She gazed up at him, and he at her--

And then they danced.

It was a soft melody, and the steps were slow, easy. His anxiety managed to die down the slightest bit, and he sighed a breath of relief. He was still cautious. His attention never left her, yet he couldn't manage to keep his gaze raised for a period of time.

She remained silent, squeezing his hand slightly. His eyes flit up to hers; she gave a small, half-hearted smile. He couldn't bring himself to return it. She couldn't help but inch a slight bit closer to him. He didn't protest.

"Edmund..."

He chewed at the inside of his cheek. "...We _can't_, Luna."

She squirmed slightly. "I don't...I don't know if I love Peter." His face twitched slightly. It was almost as if he was saying, _'Of course you don't love Peter. You love _me.' She found that...almost _annoying_. Her love was for whom she chose it to be for! How dare he make such an assumption!

But most of her irritation came from the fact that he was right.

He sensed her stiffness, drawing out the silence, until he sighed again. "He's your husband. You can't not love him." He raised an eyebrow. "That's the way marriage works."

"I didn't exactly ask for it, okay?" She narrowed her eyes at him for the briefest moment.

"Obviously you did; you had the choice to say no!" he snapped, scowling slightly. She looked at him, slightly off. Was that an evasive proposal?

"He's my King! You are, too," she added quickly, noticing his expression changed; "But...I can't just say _no_ to a King of Narnia!" It wouldn't be right at all! It would give her a bad title...bad favor.

The song was ending. She recognized the melody, knew the chords. She remembered it well. It was during this very melody Peter had asked her to dance at the Coronation celebration. Not that Edmund would care to know that fact. It was because of this whole ordeal that their hearts had broken. Just like any broken thing, it would take time to mend. And even then, it would leave the scar.

He had nothing more to say. Words, it seemed, were doing no good anymore. Nothing they could say was taken for any meaning. They knew what they wanted to say, and what they wanted to hear, but even that was deprived of them. Luna couldn't love Edmund, and Edmund couldn't love Luna. It was that simple. It was just too late.

Procrastination paid.

He was leaning forward slightly. She didn't know why at first, she couldn't understand it-- and then it hit her. He was...he wasn't!...surely not...it was just like...

When he had kissed her in the Courtyard.

Her eyes fluttered slightly, dimming, waiting--oh no, she was waiting for it, expecting it, _wanting it_ even...! At her wedding! _And yet she didn't care._

"Peter's watching." His voice whispered softly in her ear. His breath was warm on her neck; she shivered. She opened her eyes. It hadn't come. And of course it hadn't. "Go dance with him."

"But..."

He shook his head, firmly, ending the discussion, and ending their dance. "Go." He eased his hands from hers, despite her silent refusal, before bowing slightly to her. "It was an honor to dance with you, Lady Luna." She wanted to scrunch up her nose, tell him to quit being so diplomatic and polite, scream at him to...to...

That was just the problem. What could he do? She...wanted...guiltily...for him to keep loving her. But that was out of the question. She knew that. It just took some reminders. Very painful reminders.

Almost as soon as Edmund had walked away, leaving her staring off after him, Peter was at her side. His face was contorted slightly, his smile gone...and she almost winced at the oh-so-familiar _worry_ that was littering itself in his blue eyes. He was gazing off at his disappearing brother.

He glanced back at her, with something of a questioning glance, before asking, "Did he...say anything?" Luna felt suddenly quite guilty indeed. Indeed, how could she reply truthfully? Oh yes,--

_'Oh, well, you see Peter, it's just that I don't _really_ love you; I love _Edmund_, and he most certainly loves me back, and it's tearing him apart because I married his brother after we made out in the courtyard last night.'_ Oh yes. What a way to explain it all in a nutshell.

"I think...he just needs some time alone." Peter blinked.

"Is he alright?"

"...Er..." Oh, if lying only came easier... "...I think...it just the party." He looked at her blankly. "You know he doesn't much care for the big celebrations, and the dancing, and..." She trailed off. It wasn't exactly _lying_. After all, he had no feelings except for remorse and cold regards to this celebration of all celebrations.

Peter bit his lip, but nodded slowly. "If you say so..." The way he looked at the moment clearly stated that he would talk to his brother later that evening. Luna had grown to read the Pevensies' expressions quite well--after all, he job relied on her wit and understanding, if she was to keep them all at ease.

She didn't know if this wedding was making it better...or making it far, far worse.

Luna rested her head on Peter's shoulder when they danced, soft and slow, close and tight. She rested it there, because she for once had no idea what to do. Her emotions were scattered, her heart shattered, and her thoughts couldn't keep up with the changes. It was when her hair fell over her shoulders, falling thick and almost like a curtain from the outside world... did she manage to calm down.

She let loose a shuddering deep sigh, opening her eyes when she realized she had had them shut. It was too much. Too much. ...Too much like in the Courtyard.

She wanted to raise her head. She wanted to, because she hoped that when she did, it would be Edmund she was dancing with, Edmund she had actually married, and that everything had just been a terrible nightmare. She was so afraid to, though, because it had been so _real, _and she was terrified of the disappointment that would hit her as soon as she risked a glance.

Such a treacherous thing curiosity is.

She lifted her head. She took a deep breath, and released it with a shuddering sigh. It was blue eyes she met, not deep browns. It was the dirty blonde, not the dark, rich raven coloured hair, he had. It was Peter she was looking at, not Edmund.

Gently she let her head back down again. And as soon as the curtain of hair had fallen around her face once again, she softly allowed herself to cry.


End file.
